★ contains: some swearing, reader is in ua, but in some random other hero class course explained in story, fem!reader, setting is as UA students, y/n used like twice, slowburn, subtle cues, reader is funny funny but lowk oblivious, mentions of kaminari, kirishima, mina, momo, midoriya, todoroki and random evil roommate, subtle kirimina mentions, reader be caching strays sometimes, written as 1A but they def older.
—————————————————————————
The common area bathrooms were a vast line of at least 25 sinks, each two feet away from each other and equipped with a towel holder and a shared, huge ass mirror that reflected quite literally everything in sight.
Which is how you found yourself brushing your teeth 3 sinks down from the one and only Katsuki Bakugou.
Even though you weren’t part of class 1A, the hero commission had allowed a small group of students to stay at the extra dorms. It wasn’t mentioned that those dorms were the shitty-est dorms you had ever seen. I mean no sink, a toilet that never works, and the shower that either always ran skin melting lava or arctic expedition.
And your roommate- may she someday experience every minor inconvenience imaginable- somehow always managed to occupy the bathroom exactly when you needed it. Showering at 10 PM? She was there. Brushing your teeth at midnight? There. Washing your face at 2 AM because you forgot earlier? Boom. Suddenly she needed a three-hour shower and emotional rebirth.
Which is why, while your roommate hogs the joke for a restroom for god knows how long, you had invested in a nice, waterproof pouch with specific sections for your toothbrush, tongue cleaner, toothpaste, mouthwash, face wash and moisturizer as well as a nice pair of shower shoes and made your way down to the unisex bathrooms to unwind for a night of slumber, which usually ended up being a night of no slumber after realizing you hadn’t finished the assigned homework from that morning.
So now this was your routine, dragging yourself upstairs to the communal bathrooms like a Victorian orphan seeking salvation.
You pushed through the doors with a tired sigh already halfway out of your mouth before your eyes landed three sinks down.
Oh.
Katsuki Bakugou.
Even from here he looked aggressive.
The blond boy stood at one of the sinks in a black tank top and gray sweats, shoulders tense as he brushed his teeth with enough force to probably destroy the bristles. His brows were furrowed like the toothbrush had personally offended him. The buzzing fluorescent lights reflected off the sharp planes of his face while foam gathered at the corner of his mouth.
Dang he is absolutely obliterating his gums.
You blinked once.
Isn’t he from 1-A?
Class 1-A had good dorms. Everybody knew that. Nice bathrooms. Private showers. Working plumbing. Probably sinks that didn’t cough up brown water every Tuesday.
So why the hell was he here?
Your gaze lingered for maybe another second before you shrugged internally.
Whatever. Not your business.
You moved several sinks away, setting your pouch down carefully on the counter before pulling out your toothbrush and toothpaste. The mirror reflected both of you in the same frame, though the room remained mostly quiet save for running water and the occasional scrape of toothbrush bristles against teeth.
You avoided staring.
Not because you were nervous or anything.
Mostly because Bakugou had the general aura of someone who would bite.
You brushed your teeth slowly, staring blankly at your own tired reflection while mentally trying to remember whether you’d finished the math assignment due tomorrow morning.
…You had not.
Fantastic.
Beside you, Bakugou spat into the sink with the force of a pressure washer before rinsing his mouth. You caught him glancing toward the mirror once—sharp red eyes flicking around the room briefly before looking away again.
No words exchanged.
Honestly, you preferred it that way.
Once you finished brushing, you rinsed your mouth and moved onto washing your face, tying your hair back loosely while cold water ran over your skin. The bathroom lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere farther down the line of sinks, someone dropped something metallic with a loud clang followed by swearing.
Bakugou finished before you did.
You saw him grab his towel from the counter in the reflection before slinging it over his shoulder and heading for the exit without a word.
A few minutes later, you finally finished your whole routine-face washed, moisturizer done, everything shoved back into your little waterproof pouch- and made your way toward the door.
Right as you reached it, the door suddenly pulled open.
Bakugou stood there on the other side, one hand holding it open while looking thoroughly annoyed to be existing at this hour.
His eyes flicked toward you briefly.
You paused for half a second before quickly stepping through. “Uh—thanks.”
He grunted something that was probably acknowledgement.
And then you were already scurrying off down the hallway before the awkwardness could settle in, shower shoes squeaking slightly against the floor as you headed for the stairwell.
Because of course the elevator didn’t go down to the extra dorms.
No, that would’ve been too convenient.
So down three flights of stairs you went, clutching your toiletries to your chest while the sounds of the dorms echoed faintly through the halls behind you.
Did Katsuki Bakugou just hold the door open for you?
Calm down Y/n, you thought, slipper clad feet slapping against the wooden stairs. People held doors open every day. That did not mean anything.
You once held a door open for Kirishima and he immediately walked face-first into the wall beside it because he was looking at Mina instead.
Holding doors meant nothing.
Still though, Bakugou holding the door open felt weirdly like seeing a bear politely recycle.
——
The next time you see him is two days later, he’s dressed in an black tank and red sweats.
Now, you aren't one to be untruthful to yourself when you acknowledge the fact that Katsuki Bakugou is a very good looking individual. But you also weren’t crazy and you acknowledged the theory that there was a difference between attraction and stupidity.
Which was why you glanced at him once, immediately looked away with the emotional composure of someone diffusing a bomb, and locked yourself inside a bathroom stall to calm your violently thudding heartbeat down. If there was one thing to be grateful about for your rather useless quirk, it was probably this.
Sure, you had gotten into UA through the recommendations of the Eraserhead and All Might, but you hadn't missed the fine print on the bottom of your acceptance letter.
Hero Support. Not Hero Course.
Support.
Controlling heartbeats sounded cool until the user realises that they have to have direct contact to even try to tunnel in the power to slow down the organ, much as even try to stop it. So that's how you found yourself in the back of class 1c, special note pardoning you from all the intense hero training, spending more time with Recovery Girl practicing emergency adrenaline regulation and CPR instead of gaining a provision hero licence.
It's okay. You didn't care. Getting into UA was more than what you expected, and being hero support wasn't bad. You still got to hang out with the big dogs, and you get to help civilians without almost dying everyday.
Greatful. More than grateful.
Unless-
You slam open the stall door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing throughout the basically empty bathroom except for the explosive boy and you. His head shoots around, crimson eyes locking with your impassive ones wide with shock, tiny sparks danced across his fingertips “The hell-”
“My bad.” You grumble out, tossing your toiletries bag onto the counter and turning on the sink to wash your hands. Bakugou watched as you angrily lathed up the foamy soap in your palms before jamming under the water, small droplets of water splashing everywhere.
Huh. He thought.
Stupid useless quirk. You thought, staring at your palms. You looked up with an annoyed huff, only to see Bakugou still looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Your neck snapped towards him “w-What?” you could already feel the heat blooming at the apples of your cheeks.
He furrowed his eyebrows at you, eyes looking over your face as if you were someone he caught committing a crime, before letting out an huff of indifference and turning back to the sink. “Nothin’” He grumbled.
Now it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows at him “Tell me.” You shot out, more forceful than intended.
He didn't say anything, scrubbing at a soot stain on his jaw. Now that you were looking, you couldn't stop. There were a few minor gashes along his arms, dirtied by ashy stains, his blond hair was completely disheveled, sticking up in weird angles, discolored with grime and dirt. Training hit him hard, you thought to yourself. Even the great Explosion Murder God could have rough days in training, who would've thought-
“The hell are you smiling about, damn extra?”
You immediately dropped your face back to the indifferent look of pure idiotness that you usually carried. “Nothin’”
Perfect impression.
God.
You were so bad at acting normal around attractive people.
Actually embarrassing.
“Don’t go blasting people in a public bathroom, punk,” you muttered instead, eyeing the sparks still dancing across his fingertips.
“Dont tell me what to do, shorty” Bakugou’s eyes twitched.
“Shorty?” you repeated flatly, slowly drying your hands with a paper towel. “That’s the best you got?”
“The hell d’you mean, best I got?” he snapped immediately, glaring at you through the mirror. “You’re, like, four feet tall.”
“I’m literally average height.”
“For a middle schooler, maybe.”
You stared at him.
He stared back.
Then, against your will, your mouth twitched.
Bakugou narrowed his eyes instantly. “What.”
“Nothing,” you muttered quickly, tossing the crumpled paper towel into the trash. “You’re just… less scary than people make you sound.”
The silence that followed was catastrophic.
Tiny pops crackled at his fingertips.
“Less scary?” he repeated slowly, voice dropping an octave.
Ah.
There it is.
You should probably backtrack. Unfortunately, your brain had apparently stopped cooperating the second he looked at you directly. “I mean, like- you still kind of look like you’d fight a vending machine if it gave you the wrong drink.”
“I would.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Tch.”
He turned back toward the sink, scrubbing harshly at another soot stain along his forearm. You watched him for a second before sighing quietly and reaching into your pouch for your moisturizer.
The bathroom fell back into comfortable silence again.
Well.
Almost comfortable. Because now you were painfully aware of the fact that Katsuki Bakugou was standing like three feet away from you in a tank top. This was terrible.
You quickly focused on rubbing moisturizer into your face with the intensity of someone studying for finals.
Beside you, Bakugou suddenly clicked his tongue.
“You’re in the hero course.”
You blinked, hands pausing mid-motion. “...Yeah?”
“But you're never in training, and you're always with the nurse lady.”
You chose not to comment on the fact that he called Recovery Girl “nurse.”
“Recovery training,” you answered instead. “Medical stuff.”
“Hm.”
That seemed to explain something to him, judging by the way his expression shifted slightly.
You hesitated before speaking again. “Why are you even using these bathrooms anyway?”
His shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
“The ones upstairs are being fixed.”
“Oh.”
“The idiots in shitty hair’s room flooded the damn floor.”
You snorted before you could stop yourself.
Bakugou looked personally offended by the sound.
“The hell’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” you said again, grinning despite yourself. “Just trying to imagine Class 1-A collectively losing bathroom privileges.”
“They’re morons.”
“You’re part of Class 1-A.”
“Exactly.”
You laughed this time. Actually laughed, and for a second, Bakugou looked… surprised. Not visibly, most people probably wouldn’t notice. But you did.
His eyes flicked toward you briefly, brows easing for just half a second before he scoffed and looked away again.
Weirdly enough, your heartbeat steadied almost immediately afterward.
Huh.
Maybe your quirk wasn’t completely useless after all.
You zipped your toiletries bag shut and slung it over your wrist. “Well,” you said, stepping backward toward the door, “try not to explode the sinks while I’m gone.”
“Tch. Get outta here already.”
“Goodnight to you too, Great Explosion Murder God.”
“The hell did you just call me—?”
You slipped out the door before he could finish, the sound of his irritated yelling muffled behind it while your laughter echoed down the hallway.
——
“Shoot.”
Katsuki looked over, watching as you dumped out the contents of your bag over the counter, searching through them before letting out a long sigh. No one but you could possibly manage to pack all three different instruments to put your hair up and two different types of microfiber facial cloths but still manage to forget your toothpaste.
“The hell are you looking for?”
You let out a long, suffering sigh through your nose before dropping your forehead lightly against the cool marble counter.
“I forgot my toothpaste.”
Silence.
Then—
“Hah.”
Your head snapped up so fast it almost gave you whiplash.
Did—did Katsuki Bakugou just laugh at you?
The blond immediately schooled his face back into its usual annoyed scowl, but it was too late. You saw it. The tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. The brief flash of amusement in his eyes.
You pointed at him accusingly. “You laughed.”
“I didn’t.”
“You literally did.”
“Tch. Sounded more like a choking noise to me.”
Wow. So this was what gaslighting felt like.
You narrowed your eyes at him while he resumed brushing his teeth like he hadn’t just committed a crime against your dignity. This was horrible. Actually terrible. Somehow, against all odds, you had developed whatever this weird bathroom acquaintanceship with Katsuki Bakugou, and now he got front-row seats to you being incapable of remembering basic hygiene supplies.
Amazing.
Fantastic.
Maybe you should just transfer schools.
Muttering under your breath, you started shoving your things back into the pouch with significantly more aggression than necessary.
“I’ll just go back,” you grumbled, more to yourself than to him. “It’s fine.”
“The extra dorms are downstairs, dumbass.”
You paused mid-zip.
Slowly, your head lifted.
“…You know where I live?”
The second the words left your mouth, Bakugou’s expression twisted like you had personally offended him.
“There’s only one bunch of extras walking around with those ugly-ass support jackets.”
“Oh.”
You looked down at your jacket sleeve.
Okay, in your defense, the gray one was really ugly, the red and blue ones were nice enough, and the green one brought out your eyes, the yellow one did wash you out a bit though-
Still.
Your brain, unfortunately, decided to latch onto the completely wrong part of that interaction.
He noticed me enough to remember where I live!
Absolutely not.
Shut up immediately.
You violently shoved that thought into a mental trash compactor before slinging the bag over your wrist.
“Whatever,” you muttered. “I’ll survive.”
You turned toward the door, mentally preparing yourself for the three flights of stairs back down to the world’s worst dorm building and the likely possibility your roommate was still committing war crimes in the bathroom.
Come on y/n, you can do it. One flight of stairs is 45 stairs, so 45x3 is… Shit what’s 45 plus 45? Nevermind its not that far-
“Oi.”
You looked back.
Bakugou was already digging through the pocket of his sweats, brows furrowed like he was irritated at the mere act of existing. Then, without warning, he tossed something at your face.
You barely caught it on instinct.
A small travel-sized toothpaste tube sat in your palm.
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then slowly looked back up at him.
“…Huh.”
“Don’t make it weird,” he said immediately, turning back toward the sink before you could even process it. “I got extra.”
Your eyes dropped back to the toothpaste.
Then back to him.
Then back to the toothpaste again.
Your brain short-circuited slightly.
Katsuki Bakugou carried emergency backup toothpaste.
Why was that weirdly cute?
No. No, absolutely not. Get a grip.
“You carry extra toothpaste around?” you asked carefully, like you were approaching a feral animal.
“I don’t.”
“You are literally holding evidence.”
“Tch.”
You watched the tips of his ears tint faintly pink as he aggressively rinsed his toothbrush under the sink.
Oh my god.
OH MY GOD.
You bit the inside of your cheek so hard trying not to smile that it genuinely hurt.
Bakugou noticed immediately.
His eyes narrowed into slits. “Don’t.”
Your lips pressed together instantly. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinkin’ about it.”
“Thinking about what?”
“The weird face thing.”
You gasped softly in mock offense. “Wow. Okay. First of all, rude.”
“Second of all?”
“There is no second of all, actually. I’m still stuck on ‘weird face thing.’”
He clicked his tongue, shoulders tense in that way they always got whenever he was pretending not to care about something.
Unfortunately for him, you were beginning to notice things.
Like how he wouldn’t look directly at you right now. Or how his ears always got red first before the rest of his face did. Or how he kept pretending to fix things that didn’t need fixing whenever he got awkward.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
You uncapped the toothpaste slowly, squeezing some onto your toothbrush before glancing toward him again.
“…Thanks.”
The words came out quieter this time. Real.
Bakugou’s expression shifted for half a second- not softer exactly, that would imply Katsuki Bakugou understood the concept of softness. But less sharp. Less guarded.
His gaze flicked toward you before sliding away again almost immediately, jaw tightening like he hated that your gratitude affected him at all.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
You stared at him for a second longer than necessary before quickly turning toward the sink again, pretending to focus very hard on brushing your teeth while your heartbeat started acting stupid.
This was bad. Very bad.
Because now every time you used toothpaste for the next week, your brain was going to remember that Katsuki Bakugou had handed it to you with pink ears and a scowl. And now you would have to use your quirk to slow down your thudding heart before rolled over with an heart attack
That felt a little unfair.
——
Mina’s parties were always loud.
Not obnoxiously loud- well, actually, yes, obnoxiously loud -but in a way that somehow worked. Music vibrated through the walls of the common room while pink fairy lights hung from literally every possible surface. Somebody had dragged beanbags into the middle of the floor, Kaminari was losing some kind of card game dramatically, and Mina herself was dancing on the couch while Kirishima hyped her up like she was performing at a sold out concert.
You’d only really come because Mina and Momo had practically kidnapped you into attending.
After shadowing them during a mission a few months ago, the three of you had gotten weirdly close. Mina texted you constantly, Momo always made you tea when you studied together, and somehow that translated into you being invited into the chaos that was Class 1-A social events.
Currently, you were nursing some obnoxiously fruity drink Mina had shoved into your hand twenty minutes ago while leaning against the kitchen counter. Your jeans fit comfortably, and the top you wore left your collarbones exposed enough that Mina had gasped dramatically and called you “ethereally hot” before shoving lip gloss at you.
Across the room, you caught sight of Todoroki talking to Midoriya. Both boys nodding enthusiastically to something being shared mutually.
All you could think about was Shoto’s hair.
“How is it so even?” you muttered into your drink. “Like genetically speaking, that's insane.”
Momo blinked at you from beside the snack table. “What?”
“His split dye. It’s perfect. Fifty-fifty. Mine would’ve come out patchy.”
Mina snorted loudly. “You’re staring at Todoroki’s hair like you wanna study it under a microscope.”
“I do.”
From somewhere near the couch, Bakugou looked over.
His eyes landed on you briefly.
You barely noticed him, too busy staring at Todoroki like his scalp held the secrets of the universe, but Bakugou definitely noticed you. The jeans. The pretty top. The drink in your hand. The laugh you let out when Mina nearly fell off the couch.
“I mean I guess there are some drawbacks I guess, like he could never do an side part-”
His expression darkened instantly.
Then he clicked his tongue and walked away.
——
Several hours later, you were, in your own professional opinion, doing great.
Sure, the hallway tilted a little weirdly every few steps and your limbs felt suspiciously disconnected from your body, but you were functioning.
Mostly.
You clutched your pajamas and toiletries bag tightly while wandering down the hall toward the communal bathrooms, squinting dramatically at the floor like it had personally betrayed you.
The bathroom door swung open.
And there he was again.
Bakugou looked freshly showered, damp blond hair pushed back slightly, a dark shirt hanging loose over gray sweats. He stopped immediately upon seeing you swaying in the doorway.
Your face lit up instantly.
“Bakugouuuu,” you slurred happily.
His brows furrowed. “…The hell?”
You grinned wider.
He stared at you for exactly three seconds before narrowing his eyes. “Are you drunk?”
“‘ope,” you said confidently. “Jus’ a lil tipshyyy. Heh.”
“You’re wasted.”
“‘m not.”
You stumbled past him toward one of the bathroom stalls with all the grace of a collapsing giraffe.
Bakugou watched in exhausted disbelief while the stall door slammed shut behind you.
There was a concerning amount of fumbling noises.
Then:
“Ohhkay wait—”
THUMP.
Bakugou winced. “You alive in there?”
“’m okay,” you called out immediately. “Th’wall attacked me.”
“The wall.”
“Mhm.”
A minute later, the stall door creaked open.
You emerged wearing loose pajama pants covered in tiny colorful trains and a tank top that had slightly slipped off one shoulder. Your hair was messy from changing, and your expression held the dazed satisfaction of someone who thought they were acting perfectly normal.
Then you stumbled sideways.
“Watch where you’re going,” Bakugou snapped automatically.
You pointed at him immediately. “You watch where you’re going.”
And then your knees gave out entirely.
Bakugou’s eyes widened as you hit the floor with a soft thud, staring upward in complete confusion.
You blinked once.
Then twice.
“What happened.”
He bit the inside of his cheek so hard it almost hurt.
Because he absolutely was not about to laugh at this.
Unfortunately for him, the sight of you glaring suspiciously at the floor like it had committed a crime was making that incredibly difficult.
“Tch—idiot,” he muttered, crouching down to help you up.
The second he got you halfway upright, you promptly stumbled directly into his chest.
“Oh,” you mumbled.
Bakugou froze.
You squinted at him thoughtfully before saying, very seriously (well attempted seriousness looking at the fact you were terribly slurring) “Th’ was on purpose."
“No it wasn’t.”
“Yes huh.”
“You literally folded like a lawn chair.”
“ ‘was testing gravity.”
“You failed.”
You opened your mouth to argue and immediately almost fell again.
“Oh my god-”
Bakugou caught you under the arms before you faceplanted into the tile.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he grumbled.
Before you could protest, he lifted you clean off the floor.
Your gasp echoed through the bathroom. “You’s so strong."
“Shut up.”
He set you carefully on the bathroom counter, hands disappearing from your waist so fast it was almost impressive.
Meanwhile, you kept talking like absolutely nothing had happened.
“’m not even drunk,” you insisted. “Fina (Mina) jus’ makes strong drinks. Also ‘odoroki’s hair is fake.”
Bakugou rummaged through your toiletries bag. “The hell does that mean?”
“It’s too s’metrical.”
“That’s your concern right now?”
“Hm.”
He pulled out your toothbrush.
You watched with sleepy fascination as he uncapped your toothpaste and squeezed some onto the bristles with rough efficiency before shoving it toward you.
“Brush,” he ordered.
You took it obediently. “You’d make a really mean nurse.”
“I’d make a terrible nurse.”
“Mhm.”
While you slowly brushed your teeth, Bakugou walked over and locked the bathroom door.
You blinked at him.
“What’re you doing?”
“Don’t want dumbasses getting the wrong idea,” he muttered.
You hummed thoughtfully around toothpaste foam like that made perfect sense.
The bathroom fell quiet after that.
You sat on the counter brushing your teeth with sleepy little motions while Bakugou awkwardly paced nearby like an irritated guard dog. Every few seconds his eyes flicked toward you to make sure you weren’t about to tip sideways and crack your skull open.
Eventually you spit into the sink and announced proudly, “ ‘mDone.”
The second you tried hopping off the counter, your legs betrayed you again.
Bakugou’s hands immediately landed on your waist to steady you.
You stared up at him.
He stared down at you.
“…Careful, dumbass.”
You blinked slowly before turning away to fumble with your hair tie.
Your arms kept missing.
“The hell are you doing?”
“Hair.”
“No shit.”
You struggled another few seconds before Bakugou made an annoyed sound low in his throat.
“Move.”
You obediently stilled.
Large warm hands gathered your hair carefully, surprisingly gentle as he twisted it up and secured the tie for you in one smooth motion.
You looked genuinely delighted.
“Oh.”
He ignored that reaction entirely.
Instead, he grabbed your face wash, squeezed some into your palm, then turned on the faucet.
“Wash your face.”
“Yezzir.”
“Quit bein’ weird.”
But he didn’t look away once while you rinsed your face.
Didn’t look away while you dried it either.
Didn’t look away when you rubbed moisturizer onto your cheeks with sleepy unfocused eyes and nearly swayed off balance again.
Because the second you tipped forward, Bakugou moved fast.
His arms caged around you against the counter, trapping you there before you could collapse.
You looked up at him instantly.
Same dazed smile.
Soft. Sleepy.
Bakugou’s breath caught.
“S-stop that,” he muttered roughly. “The hell’s wrong with you.”
Your hand lifted slowly before pressing flat against his chest.
Bakugou went rigid.
“…Your heart’s beating fast,” you mumbled.
His ears turned violently pink.
“It’s not—”
Your quirk activated softly beneath your fingertips.
Immediately, the frantic pounding slowed.
Bakugou’s eyes widened.
He stared at you like you’d just detonated something inside his ribcage.
You looked up at him with a tiny pleased grin.
Then suddenly your expression dropped completely.
“…I’m gonna throw up.”
——
Bakugou’s entire body went rigid.
“…I’m gonna throw up.”
His eyes widened in genuine horror.
“The hell you are—”
You slapped a hand over your mouth.
“Oh my god.”
“DON’T—”
You gagged.
Bakugou moved faster than you’d ever seen a human being move in his life. One second he was caging you against the counter, the next he was grabbing you by the shoulders and hauling you sideways toward the sinks with pure survival instincts kicking in.
“Not on me,” he barked. “I swear to god if you puke on me—”
“I don’t feel good,” you whined miserably.
“No shit!”
You bent over the sink dramatically. Nothing happened.
Bakugou waited behind you tensely like he was diffusing a bomb.
Silence. Then—
“…False alarm.”
His eye twitched.
“You little—”
The second you turned around too quickly, your balance disappeared again.
Bakugou caught you immediately with a sharp curse.
Your forehead thunked lightly against his shoulder while you groaned. “Everything’s spinning.”
“Because you’re drunk.”
“ ’m tipsy.”
“You can barely stand.”
“That’s fake.”
“HOW.”
You lifted one finger like you were about to explain something deeply philosophical before stopping halfway through.
“…Forgot.”
Bakugou stared at you for a long moment.
Then he sighed the kind of sigh people let out moments before developing stress-induced wrinkles at seventeen.
“You’re a damn disaster.”
“Mhm.”
“And why the hell were you drinking that much anyway?”
“Fina (Mina) said they tasted like juice.”
“That idiot.”
You nodded solemnly against his shoulder. “Fina’s very persuasive.”
Bakugou carefully steadied you upright again, though his hands stayed firm around your waist this time like he no longer trusted your legs to function independently.
Which was fair.
Your eyes blinked slowly up at him.
Close up like this, he looked unfairly pretty.
You noticed weird things when you were drunk. Like the tiny freckles dusted across his cheeks. Or how his eyelashes were actually kind of long, or how warm his hands were through the thin fabric of your tank top. Your sleepy expression softened dangerously.
Bakugou noticed immediately.
His grip tightened slightly. “…What.”
“You have nice eyes.”
Silence. Complete. Utter. Silence.
Then: “Quit sayin’ weird shit.”
“But they’re red,” you continued thoughtfully. “Like mean cherries.”
“What the hell is a mean cherry.”
“I dunno.”
His ears were bright red again.
You smiled triumphantly. “The pink ears!”
“Shut up.”
“You gettin’ embarrassed.”
“I don’t.”
“You dooooo.”
“I’m gonna leave you on the floor.”
“You’ll miss me.”
His face looked like it physically short-circuited for a second as you stared at him clearly.
Then your brows furrowed. “Huh.”
“The hell now?”
“You’re blurry.”
“You’re drunk.”
“No, like…” Your hand lifted toward his face clumsily. “Extra blurry.”
Bakugou caught your wrist before you could poke him in the eye.
Your quirk fizzed instinctively beneath your fingertips from the contact, immediately his heartbeat jumped hard against his ribs. Then steadied.
His breath caught.
Again.
You blinked down at your joined hands curiously before looking back up at him with sleepy delight.
“Ohhhh. That’s why.”
Bakugou narrowed his eyes cautiously. “Why what.”
“You like me.”
The bathroom became so silent it almost rang.
Bakugou stared at you, you stared back proudly like you’d solved advanced calculus.
Then his face exploded red.
“THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”
“You gave me toothpaste.”
“That DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING.”
“You tied my hair up.”
“YOU COULDN’T DO IT.”
“You carried me.”
“YOU WERE FALLING.”
“You locked the door.”
“I DIDN’T WANT PEOPLE TALKING SHIT.”
You gasped softly. “Ohmy god.”
“What now?!”
“You’re yelling because I’m right.”
“I’M YELLING BECAUSE YOU’RE STUPID.”
Your smile turned unbearably smug despite how exhausted you looked.
Bakugou suddenly looked like he regretted every decision that had led him to this bathroom tonight.
Then you swayed again.
Immediately all the yelling disappeared from his face.
His hands tightened around you on instinct. “Oi.”
Your expression scrunched slightly.
“…Nauseous again.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
He spun you back toward the sink instantly.
You clung dramatically to the edge of the counter while Bakugou stood behind you looking one inconvenience away from spiritual collapse.
“You better not die,” he muttered.
“That’s kinda romantic.”
“It’s literally the opposite.”
You hummed weakly.
After a few quiet moments, the nausea passed enough for you to slump backward again.
Unfortunately, backward meant directly into Bakugou’s chest.
He froze instantly.
You sighed contentedly.
“…Warm.”
Bakugou looked upward like he was asking the universe for strength.
“You’re impossible.”
“M sleepy.”
“No kidding.”
Your eyes drifted half shut.
Then suddenly reopened.
“Wait.”
“What.”
Your expression turned deeply serious.
“You can’t tell Mina about this.”
Bakugou blinked once. “…About what.”
“About me liking you.”
And that- that made him go completely still. Because you said it so casually.
So certainly.
Like it was obvious. Your head tipped against him again before he could answer, exhaustion finally dragging at you harder than the alcohol.
Bakugou looked down at you quietly, at your sleepy face, your ridiculous train pajama pants, the moisturizer you’d somehow managed to smear slightly onto your cheek.
Then he clicked his tongue softly under his breath.
“…Dumbass.”
But his hands never left your waist.
——
“I WANT A SPLIT DYE—”
Your own voice ripped you out of sleep.
You shot upright so violently the blanket tangled around your legs and nearly launched you off the couch.
Silence.
Pitch black common room.
A clock on the wall glowed faintly.
4:30 AM.
…Oh.
Slowly, painfully slowly, your brain rebooted enough to realize three things simultaneously.
One: you were not in your dorm.
Two: you were in the Class 1-A common room.
Three—
Your soul briefly left your body.
“Katsuki Bakugou carried me.”
You slapped both hands over your face immediately.
“Oh my god.”
Memory after memory hit you like a freight train.
You drunkenly accused him of liking you. The mean cherries comment. Him tying your hair up. You touch his chest. You almost threw up in front of him. You admitted you liked him. The waist grabbing.
THE WAIST GRABBING.
You made a noise somewhere between a scream and a dying wheeze before throwing yourself face-first back into the couch cushions.
“No no no no no no no—”
A blanket slid off your shoulder.
Wait.
Blanket?
You froze. Slowly, like a victim in a horror movie, you peeked downward.
A thick black blanket was tucked around you, one that definitely did not belong to you.
Your soul left your body for the second time.
“KATSUKI BAKUGOU TUCKED ME IN?”
You shot off the couch again in sheer panic, immediately tripping over the blanket and collapsing onto your knees on the floor.
“Oh my god.”
Hands clasped dramatically together, you stared upward toward the ceiling like you were personally addressing every deity in existence.
“Please,” you whispered desperately. “Please erase his memory. Any god listening. I don’t even care which one. I’ll become religious right now.”
Nothing happened.
“Fantastic.”
At this point sleeping was no longer an option.
Your heart was beating like it wanted out of your ribcage and every time you closed your eyes all you saw was Bakugou pinning you against the sink counter while looking at you like-
Nope.
No.
Absolutely not.
You stood up abruptly.
Food. You needed food. Maybe toaster pastries could chemically erase humiliation.
The kitchen lights were already on when you walked in and you nearly screamed.
Bakugou stood at the counter in gray sweats and a black tank top, lazily biting into an apple while scrolling through his phone with his free hand, his eyes lifted immediately.
Your entire body locked up like a startled possum.
“Oh my god,” you whispered.
Bakugou stared at you for a long moment, then sighed heavily through his nose before looking back at his phone like this was somehow a normal morning occurrence.
Meanwhile you were gripping the kitchen counter hard enough to achieve spiritual enlightenment.
He remembers.
HE REMEMBERS.
Every single cell in your body was trying to evacuate.
But no. No, you were locking in. You could survive this.
Probably.
With the stiff determination of someone approaching a battlefield, you marched toward the pantry and grabbed a pack of pop tarts.
The silence was unbearable, the toaster clicked softly as you shoved them in.
Okay.
Okay you could do this.
Just act normal, normal people acted normal after drunkenly accusing Katsuki Bakugou of liking them.
And admitting that you liked him.
“…So,” you started weakly.
Bakugou grunted around another bite of apple.
Your palms started sweating immediately.
“How uh…” you cleared your throat. “How was yesterday.”
Bakugou finally looked at you again.
Red eyes met yours over the edge of his phone, then one eyebrow lifted slowly.
“…You don’t remember?”
“I remember everything,” you blurted instantly.
Why would you say that.
Why.
Bakugou’s mouth twitched, not a smile.
Worse- a knowing look.
“Tch. Thought so.”
You turned toward the toaster immediately because eye contact was now illegal.
Okay.
Okay focus.
You did NOT like Katsuki Bakugou.
Sure he was attractive in an infuriatingly unfair way and smelled weirdly nice and carried emergency toothpaste and apparently tucked drunk people into blankets but that meant nothing.
Nothing.
You narrowed your eyes at the counter in concentration.
Okay.
If he makes coffee this morning, you don’t like him.
Thats fair, you didn’t like coffee, it wouldn’t make sense for someone that you like to like something that you didn’t.
Bakugou walked toward the cabinet and your eyes tracked him instantly. He opened it, reached toward the drink shelf.
Your heartbeat slowed hopefully.
Yes.
Coffee.
Please pick coffee.
He grabbed a tea packet.
Your jaw dropped.
TEA?
You let out a noise, some strange choked, gurgled sound followed by a gasp of pure genuine horror.
I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WE HAD TEA.
You stared at the cabinet in genuine betrayal.
Well played, fate. Very funny.
You looked away angrily. What kind of performative ass even drinks tea in the mornings, hm?
Bakugou snorted softly before turning toward the kettle.
Hot ones.
Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip.
Nope.
No.
You were stronger than this. You literally had the power to resuscitate people from the dead with your bare hands, people from the literal hero commission knew you by name solely because of your potential.
The toaster popped loudly.
You almost jumped out of your skin.
Bakugou looked over at you again, gaze dragging briefly over your oversized sleep shirt and pajama pants before flicking back up.
“Your outfit yesterday was less weird than the train pants.”
Your brain blue-screened.
“Huh.”
“The shirt,” he said casually, tearing open the tea packet. “Looked good on you.”
Silence.
Complete.
Utter.
Silence.
You stared at him.
He stared back for half a second before looking away again like he hadn’t just detonated a nuclear bomb directly into your nervous system.
Your body went numb.
Actually numb.
You were ninety percent sure your soul ascended briefly.
Bakugou suddenly stepped closer.
You stopped breathing.
Then closer.
And closer.
Until suddenly—
Chest to chest.
Your back hit the counter.
Bakugou leaned past you casually, one arm braced beside your head while the other reached directly behind you.
Your thoughts immediately disintegrated into incoherent screaming.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod—
He smelled like smoke and soap.
His arm brushed your waist lightly.
That stupid cocky grin spread across his face the second he saw your expression.
Then—
He pulled your pop tarts out from behind you.
Your brain stalled completely.
Bakugou straightened slowly, holding the pop tarts triumphantly while looking unbearably smug.
“Thanks.”
And then he just walked away as you stood there shell shocked, watching his broad shoulders disappear toward the table, watching the way his tank top stretched across his back.
Irritating punk.
Stupidly perfect back.
Damn hanky panky bastard.
Was his jaw always that sharp?
He’s so hot.
When your brain finally caught up your eyes widened in horror.
“HEY—”
Bakugou looked over his shoulder.
“YOU TOOK MY DAMN POPTARTS, FUCKSTICK!”
Bakugou leaning over me, muscled chest pressing up against mine, strong forearms caging me in while he ever so brushes his palms against my waist before grabbing whatever was behind me with a satisfied smirk would make me ascend frfr.
(Still though, Bakugou holding the door open felt weirdly like seeing a bear politely recycle. — lowkey inspired by this pic)